Page 32 of An Extraordinary Lord

Madame blinked in surprise. Then she repeated, this time agreeably, “How generous of you.”

“You are not to tell anyone about her and our plans,” he warned. “Understand?”

She feigned offense that he’d suspect her of doing such a thing. “Discretion is my business.”

“How odd. I thought your business was prostitution.”

“Snake,” she purred, her red lips stretching into a saccharine smile.

“You have two days to turn Miss Chase into this year’s oldest debutante.” He lifted his glass to Madame in a toast, then took a healthy swallow of the cognac. “Best get started.”

Nine

“No, no,” Madame interrupted, drawing Merritt’s attention to the two women as they practiced their fan language. “A graceful turn of the wrist—graceful. Every move you make with a fan should be fluid and elegant. Try again.”

Merritt glanced up from the newspaper he was reading in the gold brocade chair near the fireplace. He’d remained at Le Château Noir for the night’s lessons to ensure that Veronica didn’t attempt to escape—or that Madame didn’t attempt to turn her into a courtesan.

But as he watched Veronica awkwardly flick her wrist in jerking movements, he also found it greatly amusing.

Madame crossed her arms in frustration and muttered, “I think you’d rather be wielding a sword.”

Merritt’s mouth twisted in private amusement. She had no idea.

Or…perhaps she did. After all, the first thing she insisted Veronica do before starting their lessons was to change out of her man’s clothes—including removing the two knives hidden up both sleeves.

Once Veronica was safely ensconced in a proper corset, chemise, and dress of sprigged muslin, the lessons had begun. First with the basics. Theverybasics…how the carriage would arrive at Carlton House, who would take her wrap, how the master of ceremonies would check her invitation and announce her, where to find the refreshments and retiring rooms. Veronica had absorbed that information quickly.

But the fan work was giving her fits.

“Maybe youshouldgive her a sword instead,” Merritt muttered. “It’s Carlton House after all. You can never be too certain what Prinny’s up to there.” He turned the page of yesterday’s newspaper. “Or how you might have to defend yourself.”

“Speaking from experience, are you, Mrs. Fitzherbert?” Veronica attempted to punctuate that by snapping open her fan, only to send it flying halfway across the room. She scrambled to fetch it. “Drat it!”

Merritt grinned and stretched out his legs to settle in for the next round of entertainment. This was better than Vauxhall!

She placed her hands on her hips. “I’m more than capable of protecting myself.”

“I’ve no doubt of that.” He raised the newspaper to read to the bottoms of the columns. “I’ve witnessed many battles among society ladies. The reticule brigade is as deadly with their parasols as a French bayonet charge.”

She slapped her closed fan onto his newspaper and pushed it down. Leaning over him, she parried the ivory and silk fan in the air like a rapier. “No matter how many lessons and gowns you force onto me, I’mnotone of your society ladies.” She stabbed him in the chest with the fan. “Remember that.”

His pulse raced at the fight in her. “How could I ever forget?”

She bobbed him under the chin and on the tip of his nose with the agility of a fencing champion, then stepped back before he could snatch the fan away.

“Miss Chase,” Madame scolded in exasperation. “Engaging a man in a sword fight is not the way to capture his attention.”

He wryly arched a brow. “I’ve always found it effective.”

A spark of private amusement danced in Veronica’s eyes.

Sweet heaven.A fierce fighter wrapped in soft sprigged muslin and satin ribbon trim…she was the perfect paradox. And the perfect temptation. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

“There are better ways to flirt with a man.” Madame paused for emphasis. “Without letting blood.”

Veronica tilted her head and studied him as if he were some kind of exotic creature on exhibit at the Tower menagerie. “Are there? Hmm. I wonder what they could be.”

Oh,thatdid not bode well. Neither did the way she moved forward to sit on the chair arm, then leaned in to give him a very pleasant view down her dress.Ifhe’d have allowed himself to look. But he wisely kept his eyes fixed on hers, not because he was a gentleman so much as from wariness about what the little minx might do next.